


Gangster's Paradise

by ViciousInnocence



Series: Darkness AU [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blow Jobs, Dark, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hostage Situations, M/M, Mac and Dennis are strangers, Mac and Luther are criminals, Mac asserting dominance, Mac is in the family buisness, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, POV Alternating, Porn With Very Little Plot, Violence, hostage, non-con, repressed homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:56:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5688403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousInnocence/pseuds/ViciousInnocence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course Dennis would choose to pick up his rover from the garage on the day of some armed gang warfare.</p><p>He gets trapped in the back of the garage, terrified, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide when one of the captors finds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gangster's Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Darkfic.
> 
> Not gonna lie this is literally non-con AF. This is explicit non-con/rape. You have been warned.

“Wait through here."

Dennis freezes up, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He stares down at his legs while his clammy hands and bare arms press against the cool concrete wall behind him.

“Keep watch, this could take a while,” the same voice murmurs, and Dennis' heart skips a beat at the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked and loaded.

He can barely find it in himself to breathe, as he hears the door swing shut again and lock in place. He may have managed to escape the bloodbath of the waiting room, but he feels hot and cold all at the same time and he feels panic set in as heavy boots start to cross the floor. He can still hear the gunshots and hoarse screams ringing in his ears, the image of thick crimson spray which coated the walls of the waiting room flashes before him.

He hears himself let out a shaky breath of hot air, looking round, eyes wild, for an exit or a weapon. His eyes land on a large spanner in the nearby toolbox as the footsteps get closer, getting nearer to rounding the corner of the shelving unit. He lunges and grabs the spanner, without making more than a small sound and brings it in close to his body, holding it close like it’s his lifeline. Dennis shuts his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, willing himself to calm down and plan an escape. His sweaty palms wring tightly around the length of the spanner, hugging it tightly against his chest. He would have prayed to God, but he knew nobody who believed in him.

His eyes flashed open again, the heavy boots were closing in the gap between them, as soon as they came round that corner they’d see him. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run to. The door was locked and this man had a loaded gun. In the clinical artificial light, he can see everything much too clearly, he can see there’s no way out.

A barely audible whimper escapes his mouth before he can stop himself and his jaw tenses up, legs automatically shrinking in closer to his body, scraping the dirty floor with his jeans. The footsteps on the floor are echoing round in his mind, a countdown, until he sees the boots round the corner.

 

The man hovers a few meters away, gun held firmly in place, pointing at its mark. He's wearing cheap jeans, some ugly sleeveless t-shirt, beat military boots and his hair is gelled back into place. He looks like a trailer-park maniac.

“Put it down,” he says in a quiet voice. Dennis' body tenses up, cogs whirring in his mind as he considers his options.

“NOW,” the black haired man screams, as he quickly advances on the other man. His boots crunch across the filthy garage floor, his weight crushing glass and debris beneath him. His captive panics and flings the spanner to one side, his hands flying immediately to cover his face.

Mac observes the cowering man beneath him. He’s wearing a loose shirt rolled up at the sleeves, not loose enough though that he can't see hard nipples poking through from beneath. He’s tucked his knees up close to his chest, his jeans are filthy from being on the floor; they’re tight around his thighs and what he can see of his ass. There seems to be no other weapons on his body. But what he can see is black tears surrounding the others eyes as he dares to meet his gaze.

Mac reaches out to grab his face. The man lets out a small yelp, his head shaking a little under his touch, eyes darting to the gun and immediately forcing himself to be still. Up close as those eyes fearfully meet his own he can see mascara and a light coat of red on his lips, as he slides his hand off the others smooth skin his fingers slip a little on foundation. He feels his face wrinkle up in disgust as he examines his hand stained with makeup.

“Fuckin’ fag,” he mutters, suddenly feeling anger flow through his body.

He lashes out, violently kicks the strangers legs, savouring the feel of his hard soles hitting the others bony knees and they shout out in shock or pain, arms automatically moving to shield his face.

“Arms and legs where I can see them,” he yells, moving to stand directly in front of the other, legs either side of their body.

Dennis is taking audible breaths, straightening his legs and placing his hands up on the wall, he stares down at his knees.

“Who the hell are you?” the gunman breathes out as calmly as possible, glaring down with blatant disgust across his features.

He doesn’t like gay men, they’re an ugly stain on God’s perfect creations. They’re filthy. Sub-human. Submissive. Weak.

“Dennis- Dennis Reynolds,” the trapped man states, his voice stuttering a little, still refusing to look at him. How pathetic. The black haired man feels his teeth grit together as he raises the gun, he watches the other tense.

A loud crack echoes over the garage as the side of the pistol collides with Dennis’ face, some blood spatters against the wall and he lets out a pained shout at the impact, groaning in agony as blood runs freely down over his busted lip.

“I couldn’t give a shit about your name."

Dennis' world is still spinning from the blow to his face, his shaking arms slowly moving back into their position above his head. Suddenly he is aware that he is so weak, that he is completely out of control.

The stranger above him merely watches, feeling something on his flesh where he’s gripping the gun, his eyes flick over and see blood.

“You’re not going to be a problem are you,” he says carefully, voice loud, cutting through the thick adrenaline fueled air like a knife. It's not a question.

He watches blood drip onto the others designer jeans, ruining the material, as he begins to shake his head then thinks better of it.

“No- I, I’m nobody,” he says, a lump swelled up in the back of his throat makes him sound miserable.

“That’s my car,” he finishes, gulping down an empty mouthful.

The other man feels himself relax a little at the admission that this freak was just a customer, his dad would’ve killed him if they’d let one of those other rats live.

Now he’d had time to relax a little, he felt the boner poking into his jeans.

It wasn’t really a surprise, he usually got off on this kind of violence. Making other men bleed. Women were already too weak to enjoy beating down - that was inevitable. This was different, this was establishing dominance.

 

As he watched Dennis’ chest rapidly rising and falling with his breath, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, blood running down his delicate face and staining his clothes. Mac felt a rush of blood straight to dick. This man was completely powerless before him.

“Damn right you’re a nobody,” the words leave his lips, soft and dangerous.

He steps forward and sharply jerks the gun underneath Dennis' chin.

He watches Dennis draw breath as he realises he's once again forced to look into Mac's eyes.

The mascara still leaked down Dennis' face, one black tear running all the way down his cheek. It made Mac swell with power and arousal knowing he’d made him cry in fear. He felt excitement flowing through his biceps, he eased pressure off the finger which gripped the trigger - he didn't want any unfortunate accidents.

“Stained my gun with your filthy fucking blood,” he murmurs, slowly dragging the gun against the man's jaw, to the front of his face, the barrel poking against the others bloody lips.

Tears began to gather in the other man's eyes.

Dennis' arms attempted to move instinctively to pull the weapon away from his head, but in better judgement he kept them in place. 

Dennis shut his eyes, screwed them tight. Took a wet breath through his bloody nose.

“Clean it,” Mac murmurs softly, pushing the gun _gently_ against Dennis’ mouth. 

He watched as the other mans eyes flicked up to look into his own, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or not. Before slowly opening his mouth and licking off a large strip of blood from the silver metal, his tongue eating up most of it while the rest smeared messily against the gun.

 

As Dennis again slowly licked the gun clean, it's owner felt his mouth fall open a little so he could breathe a little easier. It was such a turn on watching the other mans tongue lapping up his own blood in apology for dirtying his gun metal.

“Say you’re sorry.”

The words escaped his lips as barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room, Dennis heard.

“...I’m sorry,” he breathed, voice laced with self-pity, refusing to look anywhere but the barrel of the gun, before returning and sucking the metal down into his mouth.

 

Mac felt his breath become short. His hand was sweating where he tightly gripped the gun. 

He felt something strange overcoming him. A black hunger. He wanted to shoot this man in the head, kick his body up against the wall, fuck his mouth and leave him covered in blood and come. 

If he wasn't so entranced by the other's lips he'd touch himself, or he'd really do it. He'd kill this man and fuck him.

His dick throbbed underneath his jeans, because he wasn't sure if he'd kill him before, or after.

 

The gun was cold and uncomfortable. The way the metal scraped against his sore teeth felt like chalk screeching painfully across a board. It mixed with the iron taste of blood from his lips and the smell of it in his nostrils.

Any second this man could pull the trigger, he was powerless to do anything but obey. He flicked his eyes up to see hazy brown staring right back again. The expression on the man above made Dennis' heart constrict in fear.

 

He watched the tall man gulp and then he shifted, pulling the gun from his mouth with a sickening pop, feeling cold saliva pinging back and hitting his chin.

Both of them knew what was coming.

For a second Dennis paused and waited, before he reluctantly looked up to see him watching expectantly. He felt his heart lurch painfully as he moved his arms off the wall, tentatively, looking at his captor, brown eyes hungrily burning down at him.

He slowly brought his hands down as they shook and felt numb, his palms tingling and circulation slowly started to return to normal.

In this short interval he felt his face throb in pain, his busted lip had its own pulse and the bones in his nose ached deep inside his skull. He'd lost his perfect bone structure - his face was ruined. He’d seen the look of disgust in his eyes and felt his pure unrestrained anger when he hit him across the face, this man was going to kill him.

 

The sound of his fumbling hands undoing the other mans belt and zipper felt as if they were being blasted into his ears, the gravity of the situation had never left him and his heart still threatened to give out in his chest where it was beating uncontrollably. Dennis palms were sweaty as he pulled back the jeans and boxers, watching his dick spring free with thinly veiled disgust. As he took hold of it, his clammy hands against the heat of this strangers cock made him feel like he was burning up with an ugly fever. He felt dizzy and his nose felt tight, he might actually throw up.

He jumped in fright as the gun slapped him lightly on the side of his temple, slowly threatening him to hurry it up. His face creased up in revulsion as he took hold of this mans naked hips, forced his mouth open and onto the others dick. He breathed through his nose, trying to think of anything else possible, but repeatedly being unable to escape from the reality of unclean cock tasted on his tongue.

He heard the man above him hiss a little in pain and growl,

“No teeth,” he spat, violently jerking Dennis’ head back so it smacked hard against the concrete wall, his vision going fuzzy as his eyes snapped open in shock, before shutting them again in horror. Not wanting to see or witness anything. At this point he didn’t care, he just wanted to survive.

He curled his lips over his teeth and tried to remember anything and everything he’d seen women do in porn or his bedroom. He used his tongue, he sucked with his mouth and tried to fit as much possible past his lips. He didn’t know if it was wrong or right, he shut everything out the second the man above him began to speak to him again.

 _“Good boy,”_ crept past his defenses, as a large hand wound into his hair, gripping it tight enough to make his eyes water. Mascara stung his eyes as he teared up, feeling the gun barrel pressed up against his scalp, hard enough to bruise.

 

The second Mac had wrapped his hand into the others soft brown hair, he couldn’t control himself from thrusting his dick hard and fast down the others throat, banging the others head repeatedly into the wall with a dull thumping sound. Mac could hear him choking on his dick and the hands on his hips reluctantly restraining from scratching or moving away with terror and obedience. He watched his cock fucking the others mouth. He owned this man. He fucking owned him because he was strong and this man was weak. He deserved to have his dick shoved down his throat. He could feel himself getting closer as he heard the smaller man thrash his legs against the floor a little, struggling pathetically as he couldn’t catch a breath.

“Fucking cum-slut,” Mac growled out, as he felt his orgasm wash over him. He shot his load down the others throat, feeling the other gag soundlessly around his dick as he struggled to swallow it down and the hands on his hips grew tighter.

Mac didn't care he threw his head back and waited until he was done. Until growing a little irritated at the nails digging into his hips.

Mac took a step back, pulling out of the others mouth and shoving him roughly against the wall again, watching Dennis' skinny frame bounce off it as he doubled over, retching violently but bringing up nothing.

Dennis' hands and elbows were deep in the dirt brown floor, coughing and gasping for breath, the sickening taste of sweat and cum down his throat. 

His jaw ached, his stomach which was empty before now rumbled uncomfortably with the disgusting fluid he'd been forced to swallow. He desperately wanted to throw up, but his gut was empty and his body wouldn't let him. Dennis knew the other man was still watching him, the hair on his neck stood on end, it did nothing to calm his nerves. He flushed with a hot fever, crumpling closer to the floor, the force of his dry heaving taking away some of the strength in his arms. He was filthy and humiliated - dehumanised.

 

Mac watched the other with avid fascination while he caught his breath in post-orgasm bliss. Automatically pulling his boxers and jeans back over his hips, securing his fly and belt without looking. His eyes traced over the shaking frame of the man he had dominated, where his clothes now clung to his sweaty body.

He was feminine in appearance, he had very slight shoulders, almost no visible muscle and long legs that looked like they belonged to a woman. Mac heard himself let out a small grunt of pity, no wonder he was so damn submissive, he was just like a girl inside and out. He wondered if fucking Dennis would be like fucking a girl too.

With that thought in mind, his eyes trailed down to the others crotch, but he was suddenly interrupted with the sound of keys turning in a lock and a door being flung open.

“MAC,” his fathers voice rang out loud and clear, and the man in question turned as if he’d be able to see him through the shelving unit,

“START THAT ROVER; WE’RE MOVING,” his dads voice ordered, before he heard Luther rushing back through the door and several gunshots and shouts that were muffled by the radio controlled garage door now slowly beginning to rise, sunlight peaking in from beneath.

Instantly, adrenaline flowed through Mac's body again, he was used to sudden changes of pace.

His panicked brain remembered something that Dennis had said before. Mac turned to see Dennis still on the floor where he’d left him. He remained silent and frozen amongst the filth and glass, feeling his own blood beginning to dry on his face, he flinched in terror, shuffling back with pained effort on the floor as the black-haired man moved towards him.

Mac strode over and kicked his shoulder, flipping him and pushing him onto his back with the heel of his boot. Enjoying the final smack of the other's bruised head hitting the floor with a pained yelp, before crouching down, so he was hovering just above him, Mac’s hand shot out and crudely groped the others dick through his jeans, Dennis gasped beneath him, while Mac laughed, his hot nicotine breath washing over Dennis' face,

“Knew you enjoyed sucking dick, you fag,” he said smugly, before his hand dived into the others jeans pocket and pulled out his car keys.

“Later, bitch,” he whispered to Dennis. When suddenly there was a loud crash from behind them.

“I said, NOW!” Luther’s furious voice thundered, as he ran across the room and threw himself into the passenger seat of the rover; the garage door finally risen to the top.

With one final look at Dennis, dirt on his face, eyes wide and his nose off-centre, Mac turned and bolted for the green SUV.


End file.
